Cannes - Trains, Planes and Automobiles (and Buses)

29th July 2013 (I know I know, I'm a bit late)

BRRRRRRBRRRRRRRRRRRRBRRRRRRRRRRBRRRRRRRRR

It's 1.30am in the morning and that is the sound of my phone alarm across the room. Having had approximately 3.5 hours of sleep, it's time to get up, because, you know, flights and that.

At 2.30am, Jess and I were on our way to Gatwick Airport to board our 6.30am (or so we thought) flight to Nice (ta Jess's Mum!). Upon arrival, we joint the giant queue for Easyjet Bag Drop-Off and it was at this point we realized that our fight was at 5 past 6. Drama. Having successfully dropped off our bags as the above suggests, we rushed through security, only to realize that we had 0 time to do the necessary flight prep, ie brecky and Vodka purchasing. Instead we had to jog along the travalators (moving pavement my arse) all the way to the gate without so much as a sniff around duty free. 

When we eventually made it to the gate, we found that we had enough time to purchase THE MOST EXPENSIVE BREAKFAST EVER from Wetherspoons before we boarded our flight. Panic over.

When we arrived in Nice, it was raining. Really. There was actually a thunderstorm.

I know we appear to be smiling - however, it was raining so we were sad. 

After a short bus ride to Nice Train Station, we had our second small travel kerfuff of the day. Turns out, train stations in the south of France aren't very well organised. After trying (and failing) to work out the French-language-only ticket machine, we went to the ticket office. We asked the man if there was a later train than the one departing in 10 minutes and he shrugged. Yep. Sat there in front of his computer, which I assume would divulge this knowledge if he asked, he chose to instead sit there looking bemused about our predicament. Caving in, we went to the platform.

At the platform was a train. Next to the train was a sign which announced that the train on the platform was the 9.45 train to Cannes and the next one was to Bordeaux. It was 11 o'clock. Not knowing what else to do we got on the train and hoped for the best.

45 minutes later, we were in Cannes. Once we were outside the station, we realized that we had a distinct lack of map and found a deeply unhelpful one outside the station. Shrugging and ploughing on, we grabbed a coke and went searching for our apartment. 

Our apartment(Suite Affaire)was by the harbour, which was filled to the brim with giant yachts, as you would expect in a classy place like Cannes.

First things first, we headed out for cocktails at the small bar called 'The Melting Pot' - start as we mean to go on and all that.

We then decided to go and search for a supermarket - this actually turned out harder than first anticipated and it took us about an hour and several car near misses (on my part) and lots of 'Ou est le Supermarche' before we eventually realized that the supermarket was above a clothes shop - who knew!

We stocked up on Vodka and food (in that order) and struggled with it back to the apartment. 

After rustling up a small feast with our food purchases, we decided to head to the beach to have ice cream and soft drinks (we so hardcore).

And so endeth a very long day of traveling. After this we headed back to the apartment and got some well deserved (in my opinion) shut-eye. 

To stop this becoming a very long winded blog post and you thinking f-this, I'm gonna go and and do something constructive with my time, I will pause this adventure story here. Feel free to return and continue on this holiday quest with Jess and I!

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Madrid - Getting Totally Cultured.

When the sun rose on the third day, the glittering, storm soaked pavements from the night before were all but myth (watching the Madrid residents try to drive in the rain made me chuckle somewhat). Alas another sunny and crazy-hot day was upon us. We packed up our belongings (boo) and took them down to reception for them to store away.

Today was the day that I was going to get cultured, learn to love modern art and get some enthusiasm for all things Picasso. Today was the day that Jai and I were going to visit the very famous (?) Reina Sofia Art Gallery and I would apparently learn not to be a philistine. 

So off we went. Since the queue for the Salvador Dali exhibit was around about 8 miles long, we took the decision to skip that and just have a nosy around the rest. After paying for us both (since I was, by this point, penniless, all thanks to petty crime) Jai led me into the gallery. I was, at this point, still feeling fairly skeptical.

OK, so a lot of the gallery was VERY STRANGE INDEED. Here are some of things that stood out to me as being particularly pointless/ hilarious:

'nuff said,

Plain red canvas anyone?

Pretty sure that this looks like some kind of kinky swing gone wrong...

Oh My Word. This painted ceramic man scared the bejesus out of me!

Bit of a nimble way to transport your bike!... not gonna lie - I kinda like this one!

Casual blue mustache pubes and scary pointy boobies!

Saying all of this, however, it was quite exciting to see some very famous Picasso paintings, including the 'Guernica' and there were a couple of things I actually genuinely liked. I'm not saying that I fully understood the artistic intent or whatever, but these were just quite nice to look at.

British Gas advert anyone?

Under The Sea - although sadly lacking Ariel and Sebastian

Once we had trekked around all 4 floors of the gallery, we decided to get lunch and then head to Buen Retiro Park, one of the largest parks in the city. Aside from the horrific prices for drinks and ice creams (€3 for a bottle of water! Man alive) it was really rather beautiful, with its fountains and boating lake and statues! 

It also contained (much to Jai's enjoyment) a couple of buildings housing some more art - this time temporary installations. I have to say, I did enjoy and understand these slightly more.

I think maybe I liked this one because I got to pretend I was Rose off of Titanic

Some, however, I did not.

After this, virtually penniless, we headed to Madrid Airport on the Metro. Quick bit of advice - if you decide to get this mode of transport to the airport, be aware that there is an extra (quite pricey) premium for using the Metro to the airport on top of your usual fair. We did not know this, and being rather poor between us, we had a minor panic. Don't worry, loverly reader, it was fine - we made it! 

It was when we went to check in our bags after standing in the mahoosive queue that the real problem occurred. Somehow, my suitcase ended up being sent into the depths of Madrid airport (which, by the way, is MASSIVE) without a luggage label on it. Really. This sort of crap only ever happens to me, I swear. 

After about half an hour of mixed messages and misunderstandings, the orange and rather ditsy check in lady eventually admitted what she had accidentally done and my suitcase was apparently found and labeled. Thank god my suitcase it so bright and gaudy! When I got my suitcase back at the other end it was genuinely like Christmas day, I'm not even kidding you. I got some very strange looks for the strangled whooping sounds and the dancing - not sure why...

When we eventually got to the gate with very little time to spare, it was very apparent how poor we really were between us. Jai had to swap a Euro for a pound off of a very bemused lady and when we got on the plane, between us we could afford the sum total of 1 drink and 2 packets of Pringles. Nutritious. She used her card in the end but still. I'm pretty sure, cash-wise; we were the skintest on the plane

Anyway, after all of this drama, I had time to reflect upon the fact that, apart from the odd (large) drama, my time in Spain had been fab. For the most part, great company, great food and great weather are all you really need on a relaxing summer holiday and I had these things in abundance. 

Adiós España, see you soon babes.  

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Madrid - A Fickle Friend

My experience of Madrid was certainly a tale of contrasts. I thoroughly enjoyed the food, the hotel and the grand plazas and parks, I even begrudgingly enjoyed some of the mammoth art gallery we trudged around for several hours. What I didn't enjoy, however, was the moment that I became a genuine bone-fide victim of crime (more on that later).

After the 5 hour journey up from the Murcia region (much of which I napped through - there's only so many farms and dusty wasteland I can force myself to find interesting) we arrived at the Madrid Atocha station. From here we went directly to the hotel, noting along the was that the temperature was mind boggling 44°C. 

Our hotel was beautiful - just the right amount of luxury whilst at the same time not showing my friend Jai and I up in the posh stakes.

That there with the swanky glass elevators is the Reign of Sofia

That evening we went first to the Plaza Mayor, the largest plaza in Madrid and it's most famous. It's absolutely massive - I mean, see how small I look!

 

Onward from there, Jai introduced me to one of the best places I think that I have ever been - San Miguel Market. Part Tapas bar, part market, part pub, it had an incredible, vibrant atmosphere and the food was divine! With Sangria at €2 a glass, we couldn't go far wrong!

That place is truly divine!

It was en route back to the hotel that we saw some of the stranger aspects of the city:

Casual Segway city tour

Not entirely sure what this jiggling tinsel goat was meant to represent?

Pretty sure that they didn't think this through.

Apparently this protest had been there since 2009 - you'd think they'd give up and go home already?

On day 2, we got up with every intention of getting the art gallery over an-ehem, I mean of going to get cultured by visiting the Reign of Sofia, only to find out that it was closed for the day. We therefore decided to go shopping. It was at this point that everything went rather titties up!

Despite the fact that the Grande Via is definitely no Oxford Street, I had come across several tops that I considered going back and buying later - so all seemed to be well. It was whilst waiting for Jai to try something on during which time I was wandering the shop, touching the clothes (as you do if you are a woman - even if the clothes are hideous) that it all went wrong. I was looking at a dress in a particularly lurid shade of pink when I realized that there was someone standing uncomfortably close to me. I could pretty much feel them breathing on me they were that close (ew). Anyways, I didn't really think much of it at the time, except that they obviously didn't understand the very normal concept of personal space. 

Following this faintly awkward incident, I was browsing in another shop and I decided that I wanted this fab tassely necklace. When I went to pay, I realized that that sneaky bastard had not only been 'all up in my grill' as it were, they were also relieving me of my purse. Along with the remainder of my Euros, they took my drivers licence, my debit card and my room key. Cue me having some kind of public meltdown/ panic attack and calling my Mum so that she could calm me down and tell me what to do. After this  briefing from my ever-amazing mother and some frantic texts to my dear papa, off to the police station we went. After some initial confusion, I found myself speaking to a lady with a very heavy Spanish accent on a phone with a terrible line connection. Believe me when I say that I could not understand a word she was saying, hence more confusion. Following this, the police told Jai (in Spanish) that their printer was broken and to return later.

So went back to our hotel, the staff of which were really very helpful, especially the fun bald reception man, who I think felt really sorry for me. I cancelled my debit card and rang my insurance company and all of the other trappings of becoming a victim of crime on holiday. 

Later that afternoon we returned to the police station to officially report the theft and get my crime number. Enter Mr Hot Policeman into this tale, one part Shayne Ward to one part Michel Roux Jr. Now, I'm not saying that this fine specimen of a man made the theft worth it, but it did add a glimmer of silver lining to the whole debacle. It was with him that we went through the details of the incident. It was only after we left (lets face it, I was a little distracted) that we realized that bad-phone-line-Spanish-lady had, in fact, noted down that I live in 'Deboses'. I do not. Ah well, I thought - I just hope it doesn't effect my insurance claim (it didn't).

It was decided that Jai and I would share her remaining moneys for the last day and a half and that I would simply have to pay her back upon return to England. 

And so endeth this portion of my Madrid experience, and as you can see, thus far, the city has been very fickle with me indeed. Stay tuned for the second part of this crazy city tour, whereby I survive an entire modern art gallery and nearly have a barney with a member of airport staff!

On a personal note, feel free to comment etc in the box below - I'd love to hear from y'all lovely people! =D

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